


The Miltons

by limeta



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: AU, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Miltons, Name Changes, One Shot, That's It that's the Show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeta/pseuds/limeta
Summary: That one fic where Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright, and Jessica Whitly change their names to Milton just to spite Martin.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	The Miltons

This harebrained scheme first emerged during a stiff and unpleasant thanksgiving at the Whitly household. Jessica contemplated how many of her precious pills she could mix with her finely aged wine. Ainsley crafted interview questions in her head to this celebrity she had been assigned, instead of dealing with her family. Malcolm stabbed at his salad and tried to think about anything except profiling his family members, because that never led to anything other than pain and fear that his own life may end in a tragic brake-cutting accident that could never be tied to either of them. Luckily their relationship was rocky, but not that much. He stood no chance if it got to that.

Ainsley sipped at the wine. The interview questions bored her to tears. She looked at Malcolm. He looked at her, because he was attuned to other people staring at him for attention. Once given said attention, Ainsley asked him: ''How much does it cost to change your name legally?''

Malcolm Bright answered, having gone through this process.

''That's not much at all.'' Ainsley said. She shrugged her shoulders for good measure and went to finish her wine.

Jessica was try to shove another pill into her wine bottle how a scrabble player may attempt to secretly take out a letter and cheat. Malcolm and Ainsley looked at their mother with utmost judgement. She rolled her eyes and scoffed at them both. ''I've raised terrible children who don't love their mother!'' Mind you, this did not stop her from putting in the pill and mixing it with the wine, it just made the entire act of draining the wine glass all the more dramatic.

The turkey was exquisite. Well, for an ex-Milton this was no surprise. They came from the oldest money one could be in this part of the world. Jessica always told them that by marrying their father she'd downgraded immensely. ''You can't trust working class people.'' She bemoaned. ''They turn into tax evaders, gamblers, cheaters, and serial killers.''

''In that order?'' Ainsley snorted. She exchanged a glance with Malcolm, who stifled a laugh.

''Oh no, your father – that dreaded bastard of a man, never dared to cheat on me.''

Malcolm took a sip of his wine. The glass shook and he tried to hide the tremor in his fingers. Jessica noticed it, of course. She swore and that was most unlike her, because she'd been raised above such crass behaviour. ''Let's not talk about him, it's bad enough we still have his name.''

That was when Ainsley asked: ''About that... why don't we change it?''

Malcolm and Jessica looked at Ainsley.

''To Bright?'' Jessica laughed, furrowing her brows in a grimace. ''Don't be absurd, Ainsley. Goodness. I thought you were the sensible one!''

Malcolm pretended to laugh. His mother patted him on the shoulder lovingly. The joke was implied. This was how they were. The Miltons always joked like this, Jessica said that Martin's family didn't know how to poke fun at each other. ''Whilst I do agree you ought to respect your parents, the mere idea that you couldn't call your mother out on her obscene wardrobe was enough for me to think that marrying Martin was a bad idea. My parents didn't approve, of course. Why would I need a man without at least 100 000$ in a trust fund?''

Ainsley looked at Malcolm. Her expression was priceless. Malcolm had to take a bite of food not to laugh and start off his mother on another tirade about the Whitlys.

''Be lucky you only ever interacted with them minimally. When your father proposed I told him: If I spend another moment with your overbearing mother I will _end_ her...'' A moment of realisation. Jessica's eyes lit up and her mouth parted into a small 'o'. ''I realise why he pounced on me so quickly, his serial killer-ness must have been excited by the prospect of the love of his life killing the bringer of his life.''

Malcolm attested to this, uncomfortably. It seemed in character with the Surgeon's profile.

Ainsley looked at her empty wine glass and stared at her mother through the warping glass. She giggled at how a person looked when viewed through it. ''I don't know, I always thought grandma and grandpa were fun. They still are, mind you.''

Jessica and Malcolm looked at Ainsley.

''What, we Skype?'' Then, at Malcolm. ''You _don't_?''

''That bat knows how to use technology?'' Jessica seemed more surprised by this than finding out that she was wrong about her instinct telling her that Martin had cheated on her.

''Of course I don't. They're his parents. I don't want to know what made the Surgeon.''

''Emotional distance and watching bad soap operas.'' Jessica described the Whitly household. ''I mean, really! Ugh. They went _camping_.'' The Miltons, she continued proudly, hated the outdoors. Only all-inclusive five star resorts were an option.

The more they got into this conversation the more Jessica was offended to be wearing the name Whitly.

''I'd change my name in a heartbeat if it didn't mean _he_ won by me doing it!'' Jessica was many things. Though, spite and pettiness were her key characteristics. She summoned the help to open another bottle of wine. This would be a long thanksgiving dinner.

Malcolm felt that his job at the FBI wouldn't last much longer. His fingers shook and he clasped them together.

''I always wondered what made serial killers.'' Ainsley laughed, putting out her glass for a refill. ''Turns out it's soap operas and fresh air.''

''There's nothing fresh about the wilderness.''

Ainsley grinned when hearing this. She couldn't believe some of the things her mother firmly believed in. She looked to Malcolm and grinned wider when he tried his best to explain that these things did not a serial killer make.

''It's actually much more complex than watching bad TV growing up–''

''What do you even talk to them about? Do they feed you lies about how good your father is?''

''We don't talk about him. They don't like to be reminded of his existence.'' Ainsley said. She knew very little about her father and this irritated her. Yet no matter how much she pleaded Jessica would not speak of him or mention anything positive about him. He was a monster and he was only this. Now she learned that he liked camping.

Malcolm switched out the alcohol for water. Jessica called him a lightweight. He called her an 80s pill dispenser. She took this as a compliment. ''Those were my best years!''

Ainsley abruptly laughed. They talked about the eighties for a while, until she remembered their most speculative conversation. ''Why don't we all change our names?'' Perhaps Ainsley would think less of her father if she didn't wear his surname? Perhaps she would get less conversations like this: 'Whitly, you say? Not that Whitly hopefully – oh that Whitly _indeed_.' 

''Jessica Bright sounds so preposterous darling. It doesn't suit Malcolm, either, but he's never had an ear for these things. There's a reason he doesn't play an instrument or sing. Though, there's a reason why you're not our singer, either...I birthed two tone deaf children.'' Jessica laughed. ''My mother had a fit. Everyone in the Milton family was musical.'' Then, at their knowing looks, she explained: ''Well, not me, of course. I can't hold a note if it cost me my life. I am an expert at the triangle, though.''

Picturing Jessica holding a participatory triangle in an orchestra, as her parents looked on in horror – was enough for the children to burst into laughter.

''Bright _is_ ridiculous.'' Ainsley wiped tears away as she agreed. Malcolm was wheezing still, while maintaining a quota of glaring daggers at his sister for making fun of his chosen surname. It sounded _cool_. Why was everyone so hung up over it?

Jessica was just drunk enough to fall back on crude mannerisms. She high-fived her daughter. Ainsley giggled. Drunk Jessica was fun and hip and hilarious. Sad Drunk Jessica was just one glass away.

''I was thinking of changing it to _Milton_.'' Ainsley finally said.

Jessica tilted her head to the side and tasted that name on her lips as if wine-tasting it. ''Ainsley Milton. What a strong, beautiful name, my dear.''

''Jessica Milton ought to make a reprise.'' Malcolm said. ''It wouldn't be letting him **win**. It'd be reclaiming your identity for yourself. And,'' The more they let this idea breathe in the same room with them, the more Malcolm enjoyed the idea of it, ''it's kind of like inheriting a family heirloom, isn't it? I've changed my name once, I could do it again.''

''Malcolm Milton.'' Jessica found the alliteration distasteful. ''Whose initials are MM, Malcolm? Only _clowns_.''

Ainsley and Malcolm briefly wondered if their mother knew a clown with MM initials, because she had said this sentence with utmost sincerity and assurance in its factual being.

''I can stay Bright.'' Malcolm said.

Ainsley said that she wouldn't change her name if they didn't all do it. ''Come on, you can change it however many times you want. You're not a criminal. Let's all do it on Monday.''

The Miltons did indeed change their names that following Monday. Or at least began the procedure to change their name, as the author did not look into this procedure in the USA, nor wanted to.

Come next year the following things happened: Malcolm Milton got fired from the FBI only to be quickly hired by the NYPD. The Surgeon got a copycat. And people kept having this conversation with him: ''Milton, you say? Could it be that illustrious Milton– oh that Milton _indeed.''_ Then they'd grin like they'd struck gold and keep digging. Tiring, albeit much better than being remembered for his serial killer father.

His mother got more invitations to social functions. As a Whitly she'd been shunned and had no outlets to give her energy to, aside from micromanaging Ainsley and him. Ainsley's life didn't change that much. Though, having no memento of her father staring her at every PRESS card helped her not to think about him constantly.

When Malcolm met people, he didn't fear their reactions or their deductive abilities when he introduced himself. And that didn't outright cure him – but it helped, a little. As Malcolm Bright he wasn't part of a collective, a group; there wasn't a sense of belonging like there was now. He was a Milton. His mother still nagged, his sister still nagged at him to tell mom to stop nagging her – but there was a different feeling around him when he thought about being part of a family. His family.

* * *

When JT met Malcolm he asked: ''Wait, Milton? Like that rich Jessica Milton woman my wife won't stop talking about?''

Malcolm nodded. 

Dani narrowed her eyes: ''Could your sister be Ainsley Milton, that entitled brat once hounded one of our witnesses for a statement and it took two police officers to usher her away...''

Malcolm nodded. Dani groaned and told him she hoped he wasn't like either of his family members.

''I'm my own unique self, don't you worry. That kind of runs in the family.''

Edrisa wasn't in either of these worlds. She continued to fawn over Malcolm and his profiling skills; his being surnamed Milton, Whitly, or Bright was irrelevant.

* * *

The most beautiful and stressful thing was for Malcolm to face his father. It was for a case, he told himself over and over again. He wouldn't make a habit of this.

Dr. Whitly was.... pissed off was the wrong descriptor, angry wasn't it , either. No, he was like a rain soaked cat with electrified fur.

''Don't tell me that snake of your mother got you on board with this ... _Milton_ occupation.''

''I'm not here to talk about my personal life, Dr. Whitly.'' Malcolm's hands were shaking. His breathing was shallow. He had to do this fast and get out. Martin noticed his anxiousness and quickly glanced to the door and back to him.

''Why are you here, _my_ boy?''

Predator killer showing nothing more than a territorial need to assert his ownership over

''You have a copy cat.''

Not even such delicious news seemed to brighten up the sour look Martin fixed him with. Unknowingly, Ainsley had delivered the last blow to their father without her ever even knowing a single thing about him.

''I am not helping the police.'' He made this stance clear, yet he looked to the door again.

And that was all that Malcolm Milton needed to trap him.

''Oh you _will_ help me, Dr. Whitly.'' Malcolm said and wrung his hands back behind his back. He took a step forward so Martin looked at his face and close proximity, and not the shaky hands showing his son's weakness and the power Martin still held over him. ''You'll do it gladly, or this will be the very _last_ time you'll see me.''

* * *

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> and then the show happens, but Martin is pissed off about the surname the entire time


End file.
